<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Stranger‘s Book (I‘ve Fallen In Love With) by HeiiiiImTomH</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22884076">The Stranger‘s Book (I‘ve Fallen In Love With)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeiiiiImTomH/pseuds/HeiiiiImTomH'>HeiiiiImTomH</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Falling In Love, Fluff, Harry’s got a weird obsession with plants and stuff he finds on the street, M/M, Smut, Stages of falling in love, fight me</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:22:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,717</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22884076</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeiiiiImTomH/pseuds/HeiiiiImTomH</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>„Louis? Do you...Can you fall in love with someone you‘ve never met?“ Harry asked, while looking up from his spot on the couch, smiling at his best friend.<br/>„Yeah?“ Louis inquired, next to him. „No, I mean, probably not, I guess. Is some deep shit though. Why are you asking me that?“<br/>„Just...uhh, nevermind.“ Harry said absently.<br/>„Louis?“<br/>„What? I‘m watching the telly. It’s footie, Harry.“ Louis glared, turning to Harry, after muting the TV.<br/>„Who do you think ‚Ni‘ stands for?“</p><p> </p><p>———</p><p>Or: The one, where Harry finds a stranger's notebook on his way home from Uni one evening, seemingly belonging to no one around. Passionate about finding the owner, because that’s just who Harry is, he decides to take it with him. Although as he starts to steal short glimpses in the book every now and then, he gets mesmerized by the stories, anecdotes...and by the author behind it. Falling in love with a stranger eventually. To Harry’s surprise the author happens to be not a beautiful girl he could see himself with, but a joyful, young men called Niall.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Niall Horan/Harry Styles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Stranger‘s Book (I‘ve Fallen In Love With)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: This is pure fiction. A product of imagination. Nothing described in this story represents what happed in real life. Neither what the characters say or do is in any way representative of what their actual counterparts do or how they act in reality. I do not wish to be inappropriate or disrespectful towards anyone. Again, this is fictional.</p><p>Yet i wanna be clear about the story plot itself. As i stated, it is indeed fiction. While saying that i want to emphasize that this story came from my imagination and therefore rightfully belongs to me. Do not copy or take credit.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„I‘m sorry Harry, but...don’t you see? It’s not really working for us. It kinda never has, for me at least. I know this sucks, especially doing this via voicemail. Call me if you want to talk about it. Or don’t, you don’t have to. Don’t be like...sad. No strings attached. C’est la vie. It’s what the French say, right?“ The voice mail ended once again. Harry couldn’t tell whether it was the first or 20th time he had listened to this, suffered through this. He didn't know why he made himself sit through such literal torture. It sure as hell hurt like it was the first time. Kendall breaking up with him over fucking voice message. It fucking hurt. Harry kinda, genuinely thought they loved it each other. Sure, they‘ve only been together for mere six months, but still...Harry was someone who got attached quickly, too quickly probably. And being faced with the girl you loved not returning that feeling made him fucking miserable. Days, weeks, months later even. They haven’t spoken since, must have been sometime in last January. It now was mid June and he still listened to that dumb message. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His friends had told him long ago to delete it, but somehow he couldn’t. He felt the confusing urge to play it over and over again, desperate to find out, to get a possible hint what he‘d done wrong that made Kendall leave. Because something inside harry blamed himself. He just didn't know why. Every time it made him feel worse than before. It almost seemed to grow to be some sort of unbreakable habit. Something he wished he could, but couldn't get rid of. So the majority of tube rides home from his final year in Uni consisted of hearing Kendall tell him <em>no</em> in a few shattering sentences. Always, he plugged his ear buds in, pretending to listen to music, as most people normally do, before opening the massager app on his phone suffering through the words once again. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It made him think about his other failed relationships. Well, there weren’t many of course, since Harry wasn't someone for a quick, meaningless hook up. But still enough to end amazingly bad. Taylor for once, Harry really, actually, genuinely loved. He was crazy for her the moment they first had met on a party at her friend‘s apartment in his first semester. It was one of those wild students parties, where everyone thinks they're adults, because they are off to Uni now. They had been addicted to each other. Couldn’t seem to stop touching constantly, couldn’t seem to care. They were that one obnoxious couple every group had. Yes, that <em>one</em>. Until…she did, until she did care. Until she dumped him out of the blue, just like Kendall. She caught him off guard, smashed his heart, tossed it and spit it out. She left it in pieces, giving a fuck about how Harry was supposed to fix this mess, his mess. Funnily enough, he still thought fondly of her. Of their time together. One can lose the feeling, the feeling of loving and being loved, but one could never forget it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Still everything was so knew, exiting, quick paced at that time. With him just moving to London only with dreams, hopes and...well Louis. Because they’ve been best friends for forever really and, with the help of god, will be forever. There had been no way in hell Louis would have allowed Harry to go to London alone, without him. So they ended up in a small flat one hour outside of London. It was lovely. Louis, however always complained about their sticky apartment. Ranting on about the low ceiling, the disgusting linoleum floor, the lacking view. Harry had loved it right from the start. It had a certain charm to it. From the old wallpaper, his grandmother wouldn't use, to the small stove one had to be careful to use, since it easily could cause a blackout in their entire complex. Not to mention they ended up with take-away often, often times. Nevertheless, Harry loved every single bit about it. He made a home out of it, he wouldn’t trade for the world.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Looking up from his smartphone eventually, locking it, locking the painful memories away in doing so, Harry noticed he would reach his station in the coming minutes. Hence he decided to compose himself. He grabbed his bag, stuffed his ear buds in after detaching them. He also tossed his smartphone inside, having no further use for it now. He stood up, stretching himself, trying to get the tension out of his muscles. The work out yesterday killed him. In moments like this he was always asking himself why on earth he was doing this. Sure, health, fitness were crucial parts of his motivation behind it, but, even if he didn’t like to admit it, the main reason was…was to be appealing. To impress girls, show his biceps at a party in a tight shirt. To have them drool over his defied abs, his legs they envied. Harry was a sucker for that. He sure was.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">An old lady shot annoyed glares in his direction as he tried to loosen the pain in his leg, what felt like an entangled knot of muscles, detached from their original spot they normally belonged. The group of young girls also didn't go unnoticed, snickering in his direction, big eyes carefully observing him. Harry, in return, put up his best, charming self, smiling at the lady, before he left the train compartment, winking in the direction of the girls. Harry was sure he saw blush creep up their cheeks. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was just the effect Harry had on people. His long, brown locks, his dimples, his green eyes. However he liked to think that once people got to know him it was his personality who kept them around and interested. Not his looks. Considering Kendall and his questionable luck with women, he consistently grew more and more self cautious. She really did hurt him, Harry thought moving through the train. An old habit of his as well. It was something he had always done, especially during winter, when he happened to sit in the back of the train. Making the distance inside, meant he wouldn’t have to spend more time than necessary in the cold, rain and snow. The train was quite busy today, even though most of the passengers hopped off the previous stations closer central London. Still a fair amount of people, workers, students, stay-at-home mums, or dads for that matter, prepared themselves to leave the train. Harry’s station was one of the last after all.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As Harry reached the final compartment, waiting for the train to stop, something unusual caught his eye. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He spotted a book. A book which seemed rather old. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And the thing was, Harry liked old books. Loved them. He didn’t study English and European Literature for no reason. Books had always sparked his interest. Old ones in particular, where the story of the book wasn’t the only story. Where the book itself was so old, it had a story on its own. A testament of times past. This book, embraced by a leather cover, seemingly didn’t belong to anyone around. The seats next to it were empty and no one spared the book another glance. Someone must have forgotten it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Driven by his passion, <em>a kink really, Harry</em> according to Louis, Harry left his spot at the door and made his way over to where the book lay. The closer he got, the more prominent its features got. The cover was old, the dark leather long gone dry, the corners were dry, crumbled. He also noticed it wasn’t a novel or plain story book, but a notebook. A dairy some might say. There was a black sling keeping the notebook from opening as well as a pen in a loop, attached to it. Even the pen was old fashioned. Harry recognized it as one similar to those he used for calligraphy. Despite what many people would have said about hygiene and not taking strangers stuff, Harry took it. It was just a book after all. Not something infected. It was surprisingly heavy in his arms, hinting many years of use. He didn’t open the book though. The pages were none if his business, since it was most likely private, Harry gessed. Yet, he was certain someone missed something very special to them now. Just as every book, this as well had a story to tell and Harry was determined to get this story back to its rightful owner. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The train coming to an halt brought Harry back into reality, out of his thought. Many passengers were already leaving the train, maybe one of them knew who it belonged to. Maybe they‘ve seen who had left it there. He held on to the book, while stepping out, asking several people if they had seen the owner. Every time it was rewarded with a confused <em>no</em>. It was exactly what Harry was expecting. Highly unlikely that someone would notice that. Still if <em>Harry</em> lost a book, he would want someone bring it back to him. They were precious, full of memories. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So he would do exactly that.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">~~~</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Louis!?“ Harry yelled while closing the door into their apartment. „You won’t believe what I‘ve found today!“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Not Samantha the cat, Harry. I told you, she is dead. I saw Miss Ferguson bury her months ago. Which, admittedly, is disturbing, but she’s old. Confused some might even say! “ came from the kitchen. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„What? No! And only<em> you</em> say that. Miss Ferguson’s lovely.“ Harry negated vividly. Obviously touched by Louis bringing up their neighbor and cat. „Samantha‘s not dead though.“ denied Harry, nose held up high. „She probably just got lost in this big city and doesn’t find her way back home. It’s cruel, Louis. Miss Ferguson cried her eyes out as the told me that. We should have helped her find Samantha.“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harry plumped onto one of the chair at the small table, they always eat on, in the kitchen. His eyes never leaving Louis, who turned around now, ignoring the plate on the stove.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Did <em>she</em> cry or did <em>you</em>, Harry? Because Miss Ferguson told me something entirely different. We live in London, what do you think happens to a run away cat?“ He chuckled, pulling implying faces at Harry.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Never mind. I am entitled to my opinion about Sami‘s fate.“ Harry pouted, mildly disgusted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„That you are, indeed.“ Louis said after facing the stove again. He apparently was occupied with cooking dinner. Something that barely ever happened. Way too seldom, Harry concluded. Suspicion started to grow in him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Louis. Never. Cooked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„What have you done?“ Harry raised an eyebrow accusingly. He knew his best friend damn well, so he also knew when Louis tried to do damage control on his part. This seemed to be such an instance.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Nothing.“ Louis deflected shortly, too quickly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Louis. Tell me. Did you drown my plants or something. Oh my god.“ Harry drew in a sharp breath. „Did you kill off Maria and Winston, the cacti couple!?“ He jumped up from the chair, hecticly making a turn around the corner into the living room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„What!? Of course not, I would never even dare to touch your stupid cacti. They‘ve stung me on more than one occasion. Stupid plants.“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Deservedly so. You wanted to throw them out, making them homeless. They have never forgotten.“ Harry said, leaning against the kitchen counter after checking on Maria and Winston. Naming plants was somewhat his thing. He thought it was outstandingly hilarious to name them after his favourite characters or personalities. Maria, obviously named after the virgin Maria, since it was the first plant he got. And Winston earned his name, because the many smaller cacti in the shop around Winston were potted in little boats. He said „<em>Look, Louis, it’s Operation Dynamo</em>.“ So naturally, He got quite protective of his plants, since he was gifted most of them by his family still in Cheshire. They heavily reminded him of home and made him miss it less. He would gladly keep it this way. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Whatever.“ Louis shrugged.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„But?“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„But what?“ </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Louis?“ pressed Harry demandingly. „What are you hiding.“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Hiding? Me? I would never. Can’t I just cook for my bestest friend in the whole wide world once in while?“ Louis said innocently.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„No.“ Was Harry’s dry reply. „You never cook, ever. What did you do?“ </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Well. Harry, my Hazza...I might have said yes to an invitation to Kendall’s party the coming weekend?“ Louis stumbled, voice muffled as he more or less spoke into his hoodie already knowing how Harry would react.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„You did what?“ Harry couldn’t process what he was hearing. What the fuck? Why would he do that, being fully aware of the fact that Harry still was not over Kendall. The evening initially started so nice.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Well, it‘s not like <em>we</em> spoke or anything, heck we didn’t even text...“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„But?“ Harry felt stupid for asking that same damn question over and over again. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„But she <em>did</em> ask Eleanor, you know since they are friends and all. Blah, blah, blah. No one cares anyway, right? So Eleanor asked me to come with her. She even told me Kendall said I could bring my roommate, meaning obviously you, because I don’t think she meant Maria or Winston. She never was too fond of those, was she?“ Louis explained, chuckling nervously. He was turning off the stove, getting two plates ready to fill them. „I can still say no, though. If that’s what you want, I mean. I understand.“ He stated further putting the dishes on their respective plates, before sliding one to Harry over the kitchen counter. „Dig in. Made with love or whatever.“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Your roommate…“ Harry whispered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„No, not with that. What’s it called? Pasta?“ Louis smirked, laughing at his own bloody joke.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harry though refused to believe that Kendall would downgrade him from ex to just some weird ass roommate. By doing that, she dismissed all the good time they‘ve had together. The amazing time they've spent together. He was fucking more to her than just Elenor‘s boyfriend‘s roommate for crying out loud. God damnit!</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Anyhow, that’s what Elenor said. Sucks man, I’m sorry, but it’s been months. She’s not worth it.“ Louis encouraged him empathetically. He slowly started to eat his food, blowing the heat away. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„I know, still. Don’t think I am really hungry anymore.“ That was the problem with Harry. He was just a bit too vulnerable from time to time, a bit too sensitive on occasions. Things like that tent to hurt Harry disproportionately. He got too attached, too dependent, too happy too quickly. Now he had to pay the price for his dumb heart, which couldn’t stay cold for once. Not even if he wanted. Right now, he would have really wanted it to.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Oh, come one. It’s delicious.“ Louis smiled, circling his fork in front of Harry’s face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Louis, it’s pre-baked fish and chips, how delicious can it be?“ Harry glared, before shoving Louis‘ hand out of his face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Well, it’s decent at least. And better than your mood for sure. No need to act all grumpy. I told you, I don’t have to go.“ He shrugged, continuing to eat. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„No, no. It’s fine, go. It’s not you. I mean you’re right. It was what, five months ago, when we broke up? Go have fun with your girlfriend.“ Harry reassured his best friend, smiling back at him slightly. He also grabbed a fork from the drawer he stood in front of, picking on his food. Few occasional bites would have to do. He was not proved wrong. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was anything, but delicious. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„That’s my boy. Getting there, I see. You can always tag along, if you change your mind or something. Elenor and I wouldn’t mind. We could all go together, if you want. Like the good old times. We could ask Nick also.“ Louis implied like he actually didn’t care what the circumstances were. Maybe he didn’t.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Just to see you two snog all the time and remind me of how lonely I am. Plus my ex girlfriend disappearing with random dudes in her bedroom? No, thank you. Ophelia is better company than that. And you know how moody <em>she</em> can get.“ Harry negated firmly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Harry, it‘s an fucking orchid.“ </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„As i said, better company than seeing you have dry sex. I love you, Louis, but I’ve already seen things I can’t unsee. I am traumatized. It’s cruel.“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„No, you’re just desperate.“ Louis countered. And he wasn’t wrong, not really. Harry hadn’t had any kind of sexual or even romantic encounters since Kendall. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to per sé, but it just never seemed to be supposed to happen. Moreover, it had always been hard for Harry to shag, to get in the bed with someone he didn't know at all. There was no friction on his side of things. It was plain. Boring if they weren’t interesting. If they didn't have an intriguing story to tell.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„I just don’t get it, Louis. Why would she think so little of me? I haven’t even done anything wrong. I mean I loved her, but maybe that was the problem? But being dismissed as some sort of stranger still fucking hurts. It’s like she didn’t enjoy it at all, you know? Our time together.“ Harry said after a while, looking up to Louis who still stood next to the stove. Harry in the meantime sat down at the small table again. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Yeah, I get you. But she moved on, long ago, I think you should too. It’s not fair only she gets to be happy. You have that right too. Just...just fuck her…well, no. Not that kind of…Forget about it.“ Louis said. „Harry, damnit, have you looked at you, you could basically have any girl in the world you liked.“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„I guess.“ Harry shrugged absently. Louis‘ words were on replay in his mind. Perhaps his best friend was right? Still, that’s not what Harry wanted. Harry was never a fan of a quick fuck. Harry was in it for the long run, wholeheartedly. If they weren’t, maybe it was their loss at the end of the day?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Louis shuffled on his feet, trying to change the subject. Of course he could read Harry like no one. He noticed that this topic was done for today, that Harry got lost in his thoughts. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„So, what did you find today? You wanted to tell me.“ He started.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Take a guess.“ </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Nah, don’t wanna. With the weird ass shit you‘ve found over the years, I wouldn’t even come close.“ Louis was not incorrect. Many times Harry would come home with the most peculiar stuff in the world. Lamps he got from their neighbor, because, according to Harry they were <em>vintage</em>, bookshelves from the library, because `<em>We live in a throw away society, Louis. It has to change. It's perfectly fine. Well, except they are not really stable…`. </em>Not to mention that it collapsed the next day after Louis had put his <em>empty</em> cup of tea on it. On another occasion Harry texted Louis to come down to the sidewalk, only for Louis to then yell at him, because Harry brought a random couch from somewhere. After that, Louis prohibited any kinds of picnicking up strangers stuff or flea marketing. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With the book though, Harry just couldn’t resist. Call it passion, call it a kink.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„At least try, Louis.“ Harry whined. „You owe me.If you do, I’ll let you go to Kendall‘s.“ Because Harry knew Louis wanted to. He‘s not been to any party recently due to Harry’s, well lack of motivation. So Louis most of the time stayed home, since he didn’t want Harry to spend his night alone crying. After that came finals, partying was hardly an option. Quite mature, that. He was proud of Louis in that regard in some odd way. But now, after the exams, Harry could sense, Louis wanted to go out and have fun again. He would let him go anyways.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rolling his eyes Louis said. „I dunno...it literally could be anything, Harry. Jeez...Imma take a wild guess and say record player?“ Harry laughed at that. He was not that crazy?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„No. I wish I had though.“ He put his fork down, finishing his meal. „A book. I‘ve found a book.“ Harry presented with immense pride in his voice. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„A book? Like a normal book?“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Yes!“ Harry nodded.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„I mean, we‘ve had worse. So…good for you, Harry. And for me for that matter <em>and</em> my sanity.“ Louis took Harry’s plate and placed both his as well as Harry’s in the sink, filling it with water. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„In fact, Louis, it’s more than that.“ Harry beamed joyfully.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„What do you mean?“ His best friends eyes narrowed suspiciously. „What’s the catch?“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„It’s a notebook and it’s old.“ Harry stated happily. Louis crooked his eyebrows in confusion. „A notebook as in a dairy?“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„I assume so, yes.“ affirmed Harry. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„That Is...exceptionally disconcerting, even for you. What do you want with a stranger‘s dairy?“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Glad you‘re asking. I found it is my duty, as a fellow book lover myself, to bring it back to its rightful owner.“ Harry stood up, smiling childishly. „It is just second on my agenda to finding Samatha, because that cat was…<em>is</em> lovely. You can’t make me change my mind. I refuse to give up on her.“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„You're hopeless. Truly I don’t deserve this.“ Louis desperately sighed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">~~~</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The one thing Harry didn’t think about, of course, was as to how exactly he was supposed to find the one person the notebook belonged to. In a city of mere 9 million people this task turned out and shaped up to be more complicated than Harry had firstly anticipated. Whether it had been wishful thinking or foolishness. Yet it was precisely two weeks later to when he had found the book. He took it with him every day, asking random people on his train home who looked like they could miss such book. His efforts, however, stayed unsuccessful. He even came up with a plan to ask certain libraries around the area he assumed were close enough to the train station he found the book at. Of course he was very well aware that it meant practically nothing. London was one of the biggest cities in the world. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A quick, hectic, fast city where cars, people and life never seemed to slow down, let alone stand still. To Take a moment to appreciate the beauty that was around them. The building maybe they stood in front of. A generous person perhaps helping someone in need. Or just a clear, blue sky, amidst all the skyscrapers, watching over their busyness. Those small things in life always went by for most unnoticed. Even for Harry, although he hated to admit it. With his exams, Uni and the attempt of a private, or romantic life these hidden gems fell flat. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was the reason why Harry loved reading so much. He could always go back to exactly those moments, revisit them as often as he wanted. Catch up on all the details he missed through the day in book’s story. It helped keep his sanity in store, since he didn’t have a girlfriend he could share his thoughts with, open up to. He was alone really, even with Louis around. Books gave him cover, somewhere to hide behind. Flee reality for a short amount of time. Forgetting about his troubles, issues, his loneliness by being totally indulged into someone else story he loved. And if someone felt like that about the book in his hands, he couldn't leave anything untried, nothing untouched. He just…couldn’t.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That was why Harry ended up knocking at at least a dozen libraries asking the receptionist if someone missed a book. Maybe they‘ve seen it? Know the owner? Know someone whose neighbor‘s friend had recently lost such book? Harry though had, little to his surprise, no breakthrough in regards of finding the owner. All he got was confused glares or stressed sighs, indicating not to waste their precious time.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„I give up.“ Harry announced another week later, as every evening he retuned from Uni annoyed. It’s become somewhat of a normality for Louis, Harry assumed. Him being constantly pissed at nameless people for judging him, because they couldn’t understand how a book could be so meaningful for someone. „They are all thinking I’m some sort of psycho. It’s like...I‘m weird or something.“ Louis lay on the couch in the living room, passing away time on his smartphone. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Do they now?“ Louis said without looking up. His tone implied some sort of knowing smirk. As in <em>I told you so</em>. Harry came to the conclusion they knew each other too well, because he could envision exactly what his friend’s facial expression looked like without even seeing his face. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„I think you should keep going, Harry.“ A voice said. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Taken off guard Harry snapped his head around to see Nick leaving the kitchen with a glass of water in his hand and a smilie on his lips. Nick was, aside Louis, Harry’s best friend. They happened to get to know him during their first few weeks in London over drunken slurs in a club. It was pretty ridiculous as a matter of fact, because Nick was actually trying to make a move on Harry who at that point was either too oblivious or drunk to even take a hint. Harry still didn’t know. In any way, they got along quite well and remained friends afterwards. Quite honestly, Harry felt rather honored. Nick was a good looking man. Charming as well. Eloquent too. Everything someone could hope for in a partner, if there were into men. Anyone getting with Nick should consider themselves extremely blessed. He was genuinely excited to eventually meet Nicks boyfriend, if he happened to find one, that was. Just to see if said person could hold up to Harry pre-set standards.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Hey, Nick. What’s up, mate.“ They fist bumped as Nick passed Harry sitting down again, shuffling Louis feet from the couch. Apparently his previous spot. „And thank you. See, Lou, that’s what I call supportive.“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Careful there, Tommo, I might actually steal your best friend after all.“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„It’s you, Nick. I‘m not worried, at all.“ Louis puffed victoriously.He sat up. „Harry, it’s a book. Thousands get lost in London everyday. You think you gonna find the one that lost this notebook? Honestly, mate, throw it away or keep it, if you want, but stop stressing yourself with this search, voyage really. It’s no use.“ Louis didn’t say it in a mean way. He was right, wasn’t he?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Yeah, you’re probably right. Imma put it in the shelf. I might happen to stumble upon the owner one day, right?“ Harry concluded, taking a seat on their second-hand lounge chair Harry brought with him one day. Frankly, it was one of the most comfortable things Harry had ever sat on. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„See Nick, that’s what best friend-ing looks like. Giving advice that is actually useful.“ </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Sure...still, may I introduce a proposal?“ Nick intervened. Harry waved him to go on. „As I take it, you‘ve got two options. To magically find the owner or to basically give up. What if told you there was another, a third way?“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„I‘m listening.“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„You said it was a notebook, right. Have you ever looked inside? It’s highly likely there’s personal stuff, information so to say, in there. Maybe an address? A phone number perhaps? You‘ll never know, unless you take a look inside and find out.“ </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„No, I couldn’t. That’s the problem, Nick. It’s private. That’s weird. I am not a creep, digging into someones stuff.“ Louis for whatever reason chuckled at that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Well then it’s settled. It’s gonna be missed by them for forever.“ Nick shrugged devilishly, knowing what effect his words would have on Harry.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„God damnit, Nick, I hate you. I can’t with you two. You suck at being friends.“ Harry said, standing up. Torn as he entered his room.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Did you like it? Let me know if you feel like it.</p><p>In anyway, thanks so much for reading this story that came literally flying to me out of nowhere. Help! But i just love the idea behind it, soo why not act on it, right??? Despite my many other stories that patiently await me...fml.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>